Why I Hate You
by AdventWing
Summary: Taiga really, really, hates Ryuuji. TaigaRyuuji-centric ficlets.
1. Because you're you

A/N: Here with yet another little ficlet collection. After the anime ended, there was a void that could only be filled by a massive fanart and fic-writing session. Most of these will be inspired by a pic of Taiga being her normal dishonest self, and many of them take place in a kitchen sink of a Toradora-timeline. It's up to you to figure out the circumstances XD Enjoy.

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**I hate you because you're you.**

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Ryuuji was a neat freak.

Which is why, when Taiga threw her clothes into a haphazard heap, she felt a warmth that spread from her chest and melted into her arousal, a warmth that brought a smile to her face and lowered her gaze.

Ryuuji looked only at her.


	2. You never wake me gently

**I hate you because you never wake me up gently.**

...Ryuuji woke her up too.

But this Sunday morning, Taiga woke up on her own.

The light that flowed in through the windows was odd - it was a shade and tone...deeper. Her foggy mind tried, but couldn't connect it with an idea of the time.

Ryuuji woke her more than he didn't, so his name was still the first word out of her lips when the day began – she spoke it this time out of habit. "Ryuuji...?" she asked drowsily, stubbornly burying her cheek in her pillow.

There was a quiet rumble in response.

Taiga's brow furrowed above her closed eyes. Ryuuji responded…but he hadn't woken her up?

She blinked her eyes open. "…Aha." She muttered, sitting up. He was settled on the bed beside her, his cheek on his forearm.

"Tai…ga…" his lips formed, and whatever angry tirade she had planned on snapping was halted.

She examined him closer, rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. He was napping.

Taiga frowned, flushing darkly. He'd fallen asleep watching her. She'd caught him, once, a month ago, in that exact same position, kneeling.

She clucked angrily. If he'd fallen asleep doing something worthwhile, like cleaning her room, it would be fine.

Well, now she'd have to kick him awake….

She frowned, but couldn't find the energy.

......Honestly. If it was something worthwhile, she could let him sleep. But doing such a silly thing was…

...Him doing such a silly thing was...

She bit her nail.

......What could she do? He was in such a troublesome position, putting a blanket on him would be dumb, and there was no way she'd be able to pull him onto the bed.

...Maybe if she....

She swallowed hard, and leaned in to whisper a gentle wake-up call...and then bit her lip. Transforming all the embarrassment she felt into rage, she leapt up, kicked him and snapped a "Wake up you dog!"

"Hnngh! OwwwwwWW!!! TAIGA! What was that!!?"

"Revenge. From now on, wake me up with a little more tenderness," she announced, stalking to her shower.

"What?! I—

She closed the bathroom door on his excuses.

…And between rinsing her hair and her fifteenth 'stupid Ryuuji' tirade, it dawned on her - why he'd never woken her up gently.

The sight of her sleeping, probably…just like the sight of him sleeping, made her...the world began to slide, and she gripped the railing to stop herself from dying of embarrassment.


	3. You touch me familiarly

**I hate you because you touch me familiarly.**

She wasn't hitting him yet, just trying to squirm away. For that, he was grateful.

"…Ryuuji…of course, it goes without saying…but I'd really like to know…" Taiga took a deep breath. "…HOW OLD DO YOU FUCKING THINK I AM?!"

"Just calm down already, and stop squirming." Ryuuji muttered, keeping his face straight and his eyes on the dress. _The dress. _They'd called it a waitress uniform – Taiga had called it a waitress uniform, but to Ryuuji, from this day onwards, it would be known as _The dress._

It was a pink colour with very soft violet tones—he didn't know if there was a word for that kind of colour—and it was the very definition of absurd. There were sleeves that didn't connect to the blouse, a _collar_ that didn't connect to the blouse, _ribbons_ in places he didn't think ribbons could _be _in….

"…I'm pretty sure this is how you tie it…" The material looked so soft, and his hands were stiff with the fear of tearing it-

"I can…dress…myself!!!"

"Dammit Taiga, this thing is expensive! Can you just relax!?"

Taiga was actually very much like her namesake. The fact that there lay a caring, soft-hearted, shy girl on the cusp of womanhood inside her fierce, violent, taciturn demeanour was really beside the point-

"Look," he began, noting that she was becoming more violent. He had to placate her somehow. "This…dress…is hard to wear in your own…!"

"Minori wears it every week!"

"I'm sure she has help!"

And the point was that dealing with Taiga was really very much like dealing with a tiger.

Somewhere between trying to pull on her stockings and receiving a stinging slap, he swallowed a hysterical chuckle – he'd just imagined a real tiger, watched it's easy stride as it crossed the wilderness…and down a flight of school stairs.

"Ryuuji…!!!"

"We're nearly…done!" he finally cried, jumping back in a clumsy scramble.

"-----Huh…" Taiga muttered. Her hair was a mess, and the material was a little crumpled…but other than that, it was all good.

He sighed, approached her. Her reflection glared up at him.

"Your collar," he said, pointing to its reflection and the glare was transferred. After a moment of assessment she attacked it on her own.

"Here," Ryuuji said diplomatically. He rolled his eyes. The glare again. He approaching gently, smoothly, took her hands away. "We're out of time. Just let me do it okay?"

"…Un." She hid her eyes under her bangs and let him work.

Ryuuji sighed, bending to untie the ribbon. She was docile, but he knew under those bangs simmered a violence only barely tamed by the sight of her in the dress.

"Ryuuji." He raised his head and found himself gazing into dark brown eyes.

He shook his head. "Sorry…done."

She twisted this way and that, inspecting herself. The Taiga in the mirror turned to him. His gaze flickered away. "How is it?"

…How was it? It would…take too long to…

"…There are a lot of things I want to say. But you're late. Kushieda-san will be in trouble." He turned to the door. "I'll get you a coat and we'll go."

He felt a hand pull his shirt, and heard the loud thump of a person who'd placed their feet wrong. He tried to turn around and-

"Taiga…" he swallowed. A shiver ran up his spine as Taiga pressed her nose into his back.

"…I…" she began, hugging him tight. "Really…" There was a small, sharp intake of breath…and then—"I'll thank you later," she snapped, squeezing him tightly and then pulling away.

Just what was that? Not that it mattered, but with her tone, you could replace 'thanks' with 'maim' and no one would bat an eyelash—

She strode past him to get her coat herself, her super-heated face hidden beneath her bangs.

His gaze softened, and he blushed a little himself.

…He didn't need or want any thanks, really.

But just out of curiosity… "How do you plan on thanking me?" he asked her small but proud back as he locked the door.

She didn't turn to look at him, but answered anyway. "...Well, we'll start with you telling me what you think of the dress."


	4. Because I love you too much

**I hate you because I ****love you so much.**

Ryuuji was insatiable, and Taiga knew it. It was there, at the back of her mind, a half-formed observation that made itself more solid before dinner and during commercials.

The road to understanding came slow for her...but at least it came. It had finally hit her when Ami had caught them once, at lunch break, at school. The period after that, staring at the back of his head, her jaw had dropped in understanding.

Ryuuji was...addicted.

So she read up…on addiction in general. There wasn't much else she had the courage to look at, and asking Ami was out of the question.

Cold turkey was out of the question, she decided, blushing furiously as she admitted it…so she tried to wean him.

But after just a week, she gave up.

It wasn't that she couldn't get him to stop – it was because_ she could_, every time, and all it took was a single word – "Stop."

But his hands would shake as they withdrew from her clothes. His lips would dive in for just one more taste, and his throat would convulse as he struggled to swallow his arousal. And then he would pull away, look anywhere; anywhere else. Even breathing was a struggle because the immediate area was filled with her scent.

It was hopeless. She would breathe a silent sigh; pull him lower for a kiss to signify they could continue.

It was hopeless; she would cave in every time.

She was addicted to him too.


End file.
